


Borderline

by Ryl4



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Red Eye (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, Heroin, Mental Breakdown, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14577108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryl4/pseuds/Ryl4
Summary: Alisha Winchester is, most definitely, the black sheep of the family. Being diagnosed with BPD at fifteen, she was always more vulnerable than the rest; Vulnerable to pain, abandonment, addiction, anything life could give her. Life could never take her hunting, though, so she obsessed over it. She treated the killing of monsters like an art form, indulging in the violence more than any of the morality. That's why her best friends are vampires and terrorists. Still, every time she thinks she has peace, the inner battle returns. But she finds a way. Every time, she finds away. She lies down, goes to sleep, and remembers that in the morning, everything will be easier.





	1. Smells Like Jack Rippner

Dean and Sam shouted hysterically after Alisha as she sprinted out and lept into the nearest car in the parking lot. Her hands shook as she touched wires together from the floorboard. It was only because they lept almost superhumanly far back from the speeding vehicle that her brothers weren’t flattened. Alisha still carelessly crushed the gas pedal under her black, silver-toed boots, heading straight for Los Angeles. The phone rang in Alisha’s pocket. She exclaimed in excitement before answering Dean’s call.

“What the hell are you doing, Lisha?!” Dean demanded.

“An old friend’s back in LA,” Alisha explained, barely holding herself together, “I promise I’m coming back, just gimme some time!”

“Old friend? You don’t have friends, you have people you used to hang out with, remember? Or, something emo like that.”

Alisha rolled her eyes so hard she could almost see her brain and growled, “It’s mental illness, but it’s not like our family gives a shit about stability.”

“We can get into this later. Just,” Dean paused, “...let us in for once in your damn life.”

With the feeling she hated so much shoving up her throat, she said, “It’s Spike. **The** Spike. Look him up,” and ended the call.

Jackson Rippner, on the other hand, was stressing police on the same road being used by Alisha. He hadn’t been looking for someone swerving and driving in the entirely wrong lane.Thankfully, his car was safe, being provided by “friends” of his. Alisha’s cheap and stolen one, however, was totalled. When Jackson approached the car, he winced.

 _“Looks like the damage couldn’t be much worse,”_ he thought, looking at the deep scars that covered and traced every inch of her body, face to ankles.

Then, he noticed she was still breathing and let out a sigh. The crunched door had to be pried open, but Jackson managed. Alisha’s muscle mass took Jackson by surprise as he forced more tension into his knees and carried her into his trunk. As he sat in the front seat of the expensive BMW, he couldn’t help but wonder about the woman in his trunk. Considering he was a former professional killer, well “manager”, this was a rare occurrence. Her scars were simply enough to drive his mind insane with possibilities.

_Maybe she was in a god damned wood chipper accident…Jesus H. Fuck, they're too. clean for that. You know damn well that came from a knife. At least a blade. But, who the hell cou-”_

“You fucking asshole!” a now conscience Alisha shrieked, muffled inside the trunk, “Pull this shit over now and either kill me or meet me, like a civilized fucking human being! Or not! I don’t care! Human, vampire, demon, just be fucking decisive!”

Jacksons brows furrowed as his blue eyes shifted nervously as he loudly asked  “Did you just say vampire?”

“Or demon! Whatever! It’s kind of a ‘death to life’ situation! Just let me get to LA, plea…“ Alisha suddenly felt her desperation swell up again.

Jackson touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth thoughtfully before asking, “Ya know who Jackson Rippner is?”

Alisha smirked and chuckled mischievously, “Oh boy, do I. How come?”

Caught slightly off guard by this strange woman’s attraction to a wanted terrorist, Jackson responded, “Well… Today’s your lucky day. Nice to meet ya.”

“Cool, Alisha Winchester! That’s a good start! Just say I need to keep quiet, and I’ll say no problem! Honor among thieves or some shit.”

“Honey, you think you’re bad enough to be on my level of liability? What did you do? Sell some drugs? Do them?”

“That, and…“ Alisha paused to be dramatic, “As much as I will accept a vamp or demon without bringing out the holy water instantly, I won’t hesitate to shove some down throats. Mix some salt in: best fun a hunter can have. I don’t know how many of my early ones have come up.”

“Early ones?”

“Bodies, Rippner!” Alisha cackled.

“Bodies, right, bodies! Gimme a sec… Brace yourself!”

Alisha feld Jackson’s sharp turn to the side of the road slam her against the side of the trunk. Her fists were held in front of her face to protect anything from being slammed other than fingers and knuckles, which were already bloody and bruised from hunting and fighting against both man and wall.

“Fuck, OW!” She exclaimed as she essentially punched herself in the impact.

She rubbed her nose furiously until sunlight poured in behind her. Jackson did try to be gentle lifting her out of the trunk. Alisha forced her way out of his arms, snatching one of Jackson's many blades on the way and slicing the zip-tie around her wrists. Before Jackson could even say a word, his truck was driving off with a storm cloud behind it.

At first, Alisha didn't think much about leaving him in that road. Then, she did. As a fellow fugitive, Alisha remembered the stress of seeing flashing red and blue in the corner of her eye. The churning and bubbling in her stomach would be nearly unbearable when she would find herself behind one-way glass. Drifting the truck, Alisha had a change in heart and kicked the passenger door open.

As Jackson stared blankly, Alisha joked, “Need a lift, babe?”

“There's no way in Hell I am your babe,” Jackson responded under his breath.

“Just get those pretty blues in the car while I check your CDs.”

Jackson Rippner did as he was told and leapt in the car,  slightly struggling to reach the height. Alisha laughed as she browsed through Jackson's music.

_Nirvana, Nirvana II, Nirvana: the Return… Jesus, does this guy listen to anything but shitty grunge?_

“Not that I care, I mean I'm not gonna do anything, “ Alisha began, “but, do you have a place in mind to be, or are you just going where the road takes ya?”

Jackson let out an exaggerated laugh, “What, do you think I'd be just ‘going where the road takes me’ the get away from the FBI and whoever else is on my ass?”

Alisha laughed at Jackson's horribly hidden nervousness, “Yeah, I'm sure you didn't make **that** horrible decision. There's a reason you were the whore and not Deadshot, Jack.”

“Okay! First off, I am not a fucking whore-”

Alisha interrupted, “Any unattractive ‘managers’?”

“Maybe there's nobody completely unfuckable, but that doesn't make me a whore! And don't fucking call me Jack!”

“First off, Jack, your fate is in my hands. I'll call you what I damn well please. Second off, you play with people's hearts, have them give you intimate favors, and get paid. Sound familiar? Maybe like a service you've used?”

At this point, Jackson just slouched in his seat out of offense. Also, he really had nothing to add. Except…

“You got a big mouth, killer.”

Alisha grinned wide as possible, teeth showing clearly through full lips. Suddenly, Jackson's pride was silent. All he did was maintain a look that screamed _“what the fuck?”_ His hand snuck towards the handgun he kept under the passenger seat. As he drew the weapon on her, Alisha took the gun and just tossed it out the window. She grumbled as she felt for the joint that was in her pocket. It was crumpled to the point of uselessness.

“Shit,” she hissed, “I know your all white collar and shit, but any chance you smoke?”

“Tobacco or Marijuana?”

“Marijuana,” she drawled out mockingly.

“Depends, are you planning on killing me?” Jackson accused.

“Depends,” Alisha parroted, “Am I getting to kiss Mary Jane before our stop?”

“Alright, give me a sec,” Jackson practically choked on his next words, “Thanks, by the way.”

“Thanks? For what?”

Jackson was about to pass back a sarcastic remark before he looked over at Alisha. She seemed genuinely confused at the idea of gratitude. He reached his hand out to put it on her knee, only to have it twisted 360°. The seering look of fury on her face sent chills up Jackson’s spine.

_“This is it! Escape maximum security just to be put down by some creepy bitch!”_

With Alisha’s face as close to his as it could get, she hissed. “Pull some shit like that again, and it’ll be the last stupid fucking thing you’ll ever do, prick.”

Jackson pulled away and went back to digging up his pot and a pipe, which obviously costed well over $100. His wrist throbbed with pain as he tried to grind, but he was thankful to at least have a wrist after Alisha’s vice-grip released him. He handed the pipe over and Alisha snatched it like an angered crow.

    Jackson sat awkwardly before asking, “So, ‘life to death’, huh? What’s that about?”

    Judging from the awkward silence, Jackson figured it would be a long drive. He rolled his eyes and sat like an angsty teenager until they got to Angel Investigations.

   


	2. Swine & Roses

The second Alisha was out of the car, Jackson took the keys and drove away. With a shrug and a flip of her middle finger, Alisha just walked into the giant building. It was still kinda surreal to her. Sure, Angel was a Batman type vigilante, self-righteous and angsty, but she didn't picture him with a bunch of corporate scumbags. Corporate or not, she stormed in with a bang. Well, either way, she was storming inside the building.

“SPIKEY!” Alisha screamed, barging through glass doors, no care at all for the professionals around her. “Where the hell are you?!”

Angel sighed, and approached the shouting woman, grabbing her shoulder.

“Let’s go, it’s a big place,” he guided.

At first, paranoia took over. She was panicking as Angel led her on to his office. She fidgeted in the roll around chair. Eventually, it grew to a bit more of a very underwhelming roller-coaster. Then as she was mid-spin, the chair toppled and a wheel flew to break some miscellaneous breakable something. As she looked for the wheel, she stopped at a picture hidden just out of view.

“Buffy, the good one. Wonder what she’s up to nowadays? She’s probably going on her twenty-whateverth year sober,” she thought, looking down at faded speckles that mingled with her scars.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Spike asked sarcastically from behind her.

She turned on heel and froze. She stared like Spike was God, Sasquatch, and a unicorn all together. Once she snapped out of it, her arms were tightly around him in a friendly hug. Her emotions started spilling out onto his shoulder.

“I was dead, but you were really dead, and, I went to sleep, but nothing got fucking easier about it…” she whispered, trailing off in her crying.

“Yeah, well I'm alive now,” he pushed her away almost to confirm he was really there, “we don't have to worry about that now, right?”

Suddenly she had a vacant expression on her face, raising Spike's concern for her. He repeated himself just in case her mind took her for a moment. She blinked a few times before returning back to reality.

“Easy for you to say,” Alisha grumbled regrettably before apologizing. “I am so damn sorry, I know that isn't true. You just came back. I just-”

“Cut to the chase, Lisha,” Spike snapped, making Alisha cringe at her least favorite nickname, “What happened?”

“Look, a lot happened and it doesn't matter. Like you said, we don't have to worry about it now.”

“Well, you are clearly worrying about it, so don't hold out on me! Normal p-” he stopped himself, “I really hate acting like a bloody shrink, but you know what happens if you hold it in.”

“I piss my pants?” She joked.

“No,” he thought for a moment, “Maybe metaphorically, yes.”

Alisha threw her head up and cackled, “Alright then, Hemingway, I'm going to metaphorically piss my pants if I don't fill you in.”

Spike rolled his eyes, but he laughed a little with her.

“I’ll let you off for now, Raven, just considering…” Spike made a broad gesture with his hands, “everything. You are going to at least make sure I don't need to keep suicide watch again, right?”

“I guess,” she shrugged, feeling for her pills in her jacket, “we have to get out of this place. I'm getting a massive fucking migraine, I'm so damned bored.”

“Well, there's one glaring pr-” Spike started, but was interrupted by chaos in the building.

“Look, you need to calm down, Alisha is not- Hey!” Angel shouted somewhere out of view.

Jackson Rippner stormed through, right past Angel's office.

Leaning back on her heels to try to see the terrorist, she shouted “Marco!”

Then, Jackson spun around, back to the glass office. Spike already had an expression that told Alisha he was doubting her judgment. Still, Alisha smiled at Jackson and waved him over.

Angel intervened, pushing into the room, exclaiming, “Okay, I didn't think I'd need to lay down a 'no terrorists allowed’ rule! What the hell, Alisha?”

“Geez, Angel, don't get your Tampax in a twist,” she retorted, “It's not like he did 9/11!”

“No, he just nearly got an entire bloody family killed!” Spike interjected. “I mean, we've done worse, but we had an excuse, we were monsters! What does he have? He probably just got turned down one too many times!”

“Excuse me?!” Jackson chimed in furiously, “My entire fucking family died when I was ten!”

“I wonder who could have done that!” Spike shot back.

Now, Angel and Alisha shared a look of concern. Alisha saw the look she had always wound up with every time people would say she set the fire back at Kansas on his face. Angel noticed the guilty look, too. Both of them knew Spike damned well enough to know there was only one way this argument would end.

“Stop, now!” Alisha shouted, pushing Spike and standing between the two.

“Stop? This is the last thing your crazy ass needs!” Spike's shot at her made Alisha's lip start curling, “He literally made a career out of emotional manipulation! How is that anything but a big bloody red flag to you?”

“Because I can help!”

“Like that never leads to trouble! Like I didn't end up sewing all this,” he held her wrist up to show the scars, “because someone couldn't handle the fact that she couldn't keep the Slayer herself alive. What's going to happen if he turns and we're all in trouble because of you? I'm not trying to blame-”

Out of nowhere, Alisha threw a punch. She'd do anything to forget the day Spike was speaking about. Buffy died to save the world, but Alisha's head still echoed how she could've helped, how they could've found another way. But, Buffy was still dead. It was the time she felt totally and absolutely hopeless. And that's why now, she was on top of her best friend, shouting everything she could to get back. Spike waited for the right moment to throw his own punch, knowing he was so much stronger.

Jackson suddenly pushed in, gasping, “Jesus, and I'm the abusive asshole here?”

“Rippner,” Angel began, “You stay here. Us three need to talk, uninterrupted.”

In the lab, the tension was still there, but it was fading. Alisha lept over to the examination table and flopped down onto it.

“If we are going to keep him around,” Angel began, “we need something to go off of. It's not like we just save kittens from trees around here.”

“Right,” Alisha huffed thoughtfully, “Well… ya remember how I scared the piss out of both of you?”

Spike laughed, “He's a terrorist. Don't think he's gonna scare that easy.”

“He's a manager, trust me. He's got tough skin, but it's thin as hell.”

Spike tried to engineer another reason against Alisha's plan before giving up and passing it on, “Angel?”

“I think we should try it,” he responded.

“Alright, I guess we're done here! What do I kill?” She cheered,

Jackson seemed uneasy inside the bar while Alisha glanced around at the patrons around her, seeking a target. At first, Jackson bugged her about the public setting and buried his head. Then, she explained it was a demon bar. Really, he just assumed he was in a setting with people as crazy as the woman beside him. Whether that was a good or bad thing was up to fate.

Suddenly, Alisha caught wind of a conversation that boiled her blood: kitten gamblers. She loathed them with a passion, with a special exception for Spike. In the end, well, not so much end, but either way they started working together to get almost the entire litter out. No, not saving kittens from trees. She stood up as one was describing in deep detail how they are better cooked alive.

“Plus, it's a hell of a lot more fun to have them-”

Alisha plopped down in the booth, interrupting the twisted conversation. This was the only time she could get her head straight.

“Who the hell are you?”

She said all the right things, made all the right moves, and Jackson was noticing with an irritated look. As she let out a boisterous giggle at one of the, he assumed, costumed freaks’ sick joke, he ordered an even harder drink.  Then, he had a thought.

Seems to have a thing for twisted. How about…

“Hey, can I get a bay breeze?”

Alisha was just about done with the demon group. They teased her about her humanity, prodded about her scars everything that would get under a normal person’s skin. Her? She smiled like it was regular dinner-table talk. Eventually, the demonic group noticed the difference in her and began asking about dead bodies. This was when she found the trouble.

“Practically grew up with them,” she said.

“Lemme guess,” the ringleader began, “Mommy died when you were a kid, so not you hang out with demons.”

“Yeah…” Alisha tried to control her tongue to keep her chances of baiting this guy, “exactly… Gimme a sec.”

She sauntered, bordering on stumbling, back to her spot at the bar. Jackson slid her the sea breeze he had ordered and she guzzled it before ordering whiskey shots. Alisha was paying attention to anything she could that wasn't in her head, which was now burning the same way her house did with her mother inside. A demon in the crowd had skin that resembled that charred form. She turned her head only to see one with a skeletal nose.

Alisha buried her head and asked, “What's the worst body you've seen, Rippner?”

“The worst… I've seen a lot of fucked up shit, that's kinda hard,” Alisha cocked a furry black brow, “After this one time, I came across a dude in the wreckage, ya know after the job was done. Crushed by a building, half a skull, and impaled, but we still had to get someone to shoot the fucker.”

Alisha threw back a shot and then hummed, “Interesting. Ever see someone burn?”

“Oh, yeah! I did have to handle disp-”

She barked, “No, not a burning body. I see that shit every day! No, a human being fucking burning alive, to the bone! How about your mom, huh, you have to stick around for that? Or did you just get to run, like everyone else? You fight or flight?!”

Jackson held a look of shock and disgusted as he shot back, “What the fuck? I'm not your therapist! Don't come interrogating me about my past, because I've already done five years of that shit!”    

“Bitch, I get off on that shit!”

“Okay,” Jackson breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I've been to juvie, jail, and maximum security. How are you the fucked up one?”

“I thought I just told you, Jesus!”

“Yeah, and that's…” Jackson blinked to try to find the right word, “horrible, I'll even say that. You can't be the only one and I don't see a lot like you around.”

“Yeah, I'm sure the others just got ten cents from the 'Mommy’s on Fire and my Family Sucks’ fund, right? Trust me, others as screwed in the head as me exist.”

“Huh. I thought you did some heroic demon hunting or something,” he replied sarcastically.

“No. Dahmer, Btk, maybe even fucking Columbine, I'm in that caliber,” she began, “Don't call me a god damned hero because I do it to the right things.”

“Hey,” someone said behind her.

“Oh. Hey, babe,” Alisha winked at the demon ringleader, hoping he hadn’t heard too much.

“Uh, hey, you coming back?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I just said that so that, maybe, you'd come ask. I just don't wanna make the pack jealous.”

“Right, yeah. I thought maybe I chased you off asking about your mom. It's just like pulling on your pigtails, don't worry,” he justified.

“Hey, don't worry about it. I may actually be pushing boundaries too, cause I was just talking to my male friend here to see if we could share. Can we?” She batted her eyelashes, causing Jackson to notice the stark change in her character more than the fact that he was being pulled into this trap.

“I'm not picky, but I'm actually not the driver here.”

“Well, my place is pretty nice,” Alisha offered.

Jackson tugged her arm harshly and hissed, “We are not using my truck for this!”

“You’re going to have to get rid of it anyway, considering your on the run, again.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Oh, please,” Alisha rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, “I know the on-the-run run when I see it. I’ve done it, let’s see…” she began pretending to count on her fingers.

“Alright, I get it. You’re a badass. Moving on…”

Alisha smirked, looking up from her fingers, “So, let’s go. Just gimme a little trust.” With a nod of Jackson’s head, she turned back to the demon and said, “I think we’ve come to a decision.”

“I see you have, badass,” he replied joking, obviously skeptical.

Then, it wasn't but two steps out of the building before she knocked the demon over its wrinkled head. It fell down, nearly cracking the asphalt. Alisha drug the body no slower than most walking speeds, but Jackson began lifting the other side anyway. Once he felt the flesh of this creature, he stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled experimentally. His stomach churned as he realized the skin felt far too realistic beneath his fingers. His widened, baby blue eyes turned to Alisha.

“Fuck, how am I going to defend myself?” he thought, realizing he didn't have a weapon.

“Ya gonna help me or not?” She nagged.

Jackson reverted back to his criminal mindset and thought, “Just do what she says and say nothing.”

So, they. began loading the unconscious thing into Jackson's truck. Alisha watched around them for witnesses, suddenly dropping her end. Jackson struggled to load the rest on his own. Alisha pulled out a tarp to cover the bed of the truck with, so the demon wasn’t just on display. It was lined with silver, making it at least painful to most demons. She knew enough about this one to know it would work. She took inventory of each leather holster on every limb and anywhere else she could find. With all weapons in place, accounting for her bag in the front of the truck, she entered the passenger side. The only problem was, Jackson lept in the driver’s seat first and took a twisted blade from her bag.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” he screamed, hands shaking.

“I told you. Demons exist, but it ain’t that bad. You got sickos like me to protect you, now let’s get moving before the asshole starts squirming.”

“No, I can’t trust you. How do I know you won’t take this demon thing to the humans that have it co-” he stopped, realizing what was going to come from his mouth.

“You don’t have this coming, Jack. Maybe you need a knee to the balls or a punch in the grill,” the perverted side of her mind began running, “Maybe a spanking. You don’t deserve torture, though. Not like this.”

“Ah, good to know I’m only going to be assaulted here. Probably sexually,” he accused.

Alisha pursed her lips, “I know what it’s like. I say shit, but I’d never do anything.”

With a steady minute of deep eye contact, Jackson decided to trust this woman to lead him. He at least had the comfort of knowing that she had defended him at Angel investigations. That’s when his mind started trailing off.

“So… the guys back there,  what’s up with them?” he curiously asked.

“Demons. They do poker but with a litter of kittens instead of money.”

“Oh, no,” he laughed, “I mean the asshole and the Brit?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Glad you agree on the Angel tip. That’s the asshole’s name.  Don’t listen to his self-righteous bs. He was the worst of the worst way back when. Vampire I mean. Spike’s pretty bad too, the Brit. But, he owns it, ya know. He just says ‘god damned it, I guess I’ll do it’ when Angel’s doing his best to grunt and flex his muscles to make it look impressive. They usually don’t mix like this, though. It tends to be a dick measuring contest,” she giggled between her teeth, “but I’m pretty sure I know who’d win.”

“Jesus, does everything have to be a sexual innuendo with you?” Jackson asked, rolling his eyes.

“How’d you know it has anything to do with that? I could just be saying I like Spike more,” she suggested.

“On the contrary,” Alisha nearly groaned at this phrase, “I’m straight as an arrow and I’ll even admit I’d give him a shot.”

“Straight as an arrow? As opposed to your fucking eyebrows,” she shot back.

“Excuse me? I have a right to be a well groomed-” he felt a jolt against his back.

“Shit,” Alisha hissed, digging through her bag, “Take this in case he breaks through!”

Jackson attempted to both control the large vehicle in the thinning traffic and take the knife in Alisha’s hand, shouting, “Breaks through?!”

“Yeah, this is an Ulgron demon, kinda like an Orc. Strong and stupid as hell.”

“In other words, he could probably crush my skull between his fucking palms!”

“Calm down, I mean, yeah! So can I,” she said with a straight face. Once she got an appalled look from Jackson she said, “What? I’m just telling you, if we’re gonna count up our risks here- STOP!”

The truck spun dramatically before actually tipping on its side, pushing Jackson right on top of Alisha and the heavy bag of weapons barely missing both heads.

“Good thing it was shut!” Alisha commented, pushing out from under Jackson’s lighter form.

She threw her bag over her shoulder so she could climb out of the large vehicle. A little after, Jackson pushed himself up to try and pull himself out. Realizing he was not nearly as agile as Alisha, he called out for her sheepishly.

“One minute!” she shouted, wrestling open the tarp like a tuna net.

She also prepared the syringe of sedative that Angel had loaned to her. The demon emerged with a clumsy flail of his fist. It knocked the wind out of Alisha for a moment, causing her to fall down. Her skull ringed when it hit the rocky, dirt ground. When her vision stopped shaking, she forced herself up and pulled a jagged looking knife from her thigh. It skewered the Ulgron’s shoulder, giving her the opportunity to inject him with the sedative. Jackson felt a sense of eerie familiarity once he saw the warehouse they were approaching. Alisha felt a thrill, like drinking five energy drinks at once. She smiled when she saw there was an entrance large enough for the truck. She dropped the limp body and drug Jackson to help her lift the truck. They barely got it up, but they still managed to roll it into the warehouse. She pulled a cd from her bag titled  “Confessions of a Knife” and handed it to Jackson.

“Crank it up!” she guffawed.

He did as he was told while Alisha strung up their captive to the wall. She made sure each restraint was tight and burning on his limbs. Moving on to the torture instruments, she pulled them out and began sorting the knives from shortest to longest, from straightest to most twisted, sharp to jagged, etc. Then, she laid out the liquids in their labeled bottles. Finally, she laid out the unique ones, most of which she made herself. She smiled proudly over the spread as the first song came to an end. She pulled out a crowbar lined with silver on the bottom and weighed it in her hands. Then, she moved onto a knife twisted into a nearly nonsensical form. She settled on mixing the colloidal silver with her holy water and splashed it carelessly onto the unconscious demon. He awoke with a howl, tiny holes opening as though he’d been splashed with battery acid.

“Now it’s time for some fun,” rasped, returning to the spread of weapons.

Jackson sat back and watched as she went on. The music echoed “Christain, Zombie, Vampire!” against industrial noise adding to his unease. His brows furrowed when she pulled that knife she had twisted herself and brought it over to the demon. He was only able to watch for a second as she guided the blade to an eye. Meanwhile, Alisha was having the time of her life, taking in all of his pain.

“Those kittens knew fucking nothing about the world, and you put them through more. Man up!” she taunted.

It wasn’t until half an hour past the end of the cd that the screams and laughs stopped and Jackson could look again. He felt queasy when he saw the mangled corpse. His legs limped like spaghetti noodle out of the barn. He couldn’t help but notice the rancid smell of the demon’s blood that even wafted outside of the barn as he lurched over there.

“Hey, wanna help me out?!” Alisha requested.

“No, I don’t!” Jackson gasped.

“Thought you saw a dude with half a skull?” She pushed.

“I was exaggerating! I thought it was just some twisted fucking contest! I didn’t think…” he began gagging again.

“Alright, sweetie, I got it. At least start on the hole for me, make yourself useful.”

Once the body was dumped in the large hole, there was still something Alisha couldn’t do. She handed her book of matches to Jackson. At first, he pushed it away. Then, he noticed the wetness in her eyes and took them, tossing one into the gasoline-soaked grave. She sat and rolled a joint until it was well burned through and they could put the dirt back in its place. Jackson handed the keys to Alisha so his mind could process the events of the night.


	3. With a Little Help From My Friends

Sam and Dean pulled up right behind Jackson and Alisha. Suddenly, her hands were shaking and sweaty on the wheel. Dean stepped out of the impala and Sam followed. Both of them waited while staring at her impatiently. Then, Dean rolled his eyes and began approaching their vehicle. Alisha quickly shut the truck off and lept out. Once Dean noticed Jackson in the passenger seat, he was no happier than Spike had been.  
“That’s just great!” Dean shouted, “Fucking fantastic! Not only are you chilling around with one of the worst bloodsuckers of all time, but you picked up-”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm savin’ the unsavable, picking up a terrorist. And Spike, he does have a fucking name,” Dean rolled his eyes, “died as a part pf a prophecy to save the damned world. He has a soul. I have less of a soul than him.” she argued.  
“Alisha,” Sam began, “You can't just brush off harboring a fugitive,” he reconsidered his words when Alisha raised a brow, “a real fugitive. I mean, he's helped in the deaths of how many people?”  
“It doesn't matter because he helped, he didn't do it. I've done worse.”  
“You haven't offed an actual person, right?” Dean shot back. Alisha fell silent with brown eyes that seemed to have no shine whatsoever, causing Dean to awkwardly half-change the subject and say, “We’ll all talk later,” shoving into the massive building.  
As much as Alisha was not ashamed of her past, she was reaching territory that she was horrified of showing to her brothers. She knew that sooner or later it would come: she would have to revisit the churning in her stomach as she lost trust for her client in that hotel room How her fears were proven when the chubby, much older man refused to leave. She didn't even bother pulling the gun out of the man’s head before hurrying to call Spike.  
In the present, she was on the phone, trying to give Dean less time to build up steam. Her finger tapped anxiously on the black flip phone. Dean was leaning against a wall impatiently. Then, he noticed Harmony walking through and smirked.  
“Can ya not?” she sneered.  
Alisha snickered back, “Oh, you finally found some standards.”  
“Yeah, and I stop at hunters who can’t even handle their crazy, human sister, let alone us vampires. I’ve had Spike, and he’s probably better.”  
“Speaking of Spike,” Sam interrupted, not letting Dean give his comeback, “Any idea where we can find him?”  
“Not a clue,” she said, hurrying to get away from any further questioning.  
Alisha, trying to resist the urge to crush her phone in her hands, began furiously texting, “My brothers are here. The longer you’re not here, the closer they get to hunting instead of looking. Get ahold of me ASAP.”  
“What, are you some kind of monster Nazis?” Jack asked over her shoulder.  
“I think you saw enough to get the gist,” she said curtly, slamming the phone shut so hard the screen nearly broke.  
Jackson clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and responded, “Yeah, but you also just said you’ve killed someone before.”  
Alisha flashed a finger over her lips, which Jackson thought was an attempt at humor, but then she looked quickly at Dean and Sam. Neither of them seemed to notice the conversation. She stepped away to mutter something to Dean while making smoking motions with her fingers. Jackson hissed when she began dragging him, then his heart began racing. As soon as they were out the door, he broke away and made a run for nothing.  
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, sprinting behind and catching up fairly quickly.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a police officer behind Jackson’s truck, pulling out his radio. She used her uneven, bust length hair to hide her own face. Then, she endured Jackson’s unbelievably sweaty palms and shoved him into the nearest ally. Her hand covered his mouth until the sound of the officer’s footsteps sped past the entrance. She let Jackson go while he huffed.  
“Not much of a stamina, eh Rippner?” she teased.  
Jackson shook his head in denial, “You just didn’t look that strong-”  
“Of course, I’m a woman, go on.”  
“And I really fucking value my life, so of course I was going to run like fucking crazy.”  
“Well, you were about to run like fucking crazy into a damned cop, you retard. Wanna hear about what happened with me until it’s clear?”  
Jackson pulled out a cigarette and waved her on as he put it in his mouth, “your turn to go on.”  
Both Alisha and the client were silent when they entered the cheap room. She didn’t have any qualifications for jobs that would give her enough time to hunt, but her mind couldn’t give up the hunting. So, she was reduced to this; meeting strange men whose names she had usually forgotten by now. This one, she didn’t. Ever since he’d asked for her, she’d noticed something off. It wasn’t a supernatural kind of “off” where a simple splash of holy water or something of the like would solve everything. Still, she went through with it. Whether it was intentional with the plan of violence or simply out of apathy, even she wasn’t entirely sure. Her phone rang inside her tiny shorts she had stolen from Dawn, which honestly fit too well on her taller body for her to be healthy.  
“I need to take this, can you leave for a sec?” she requested.  
The man laughed at her. She turned and  
repeated herself with a glare. He stood, which led her to think he would listen. Her phone was yanked from her hands. Her fogged system tried to interpret what was happening as she felt the hard and lumpy bed under her. The man trapped her wrist and pulled out a handgun. Even though Alisha expected this would happen some time, she was still flooded with emotions.  
“This is why I left you,” her father said, squatted right beside her face, “We always knew you’d end up here. Sam has no one worth looking up to. You’re too Damned rough for Dean and I to shove around anymore. What are you even doing in this family?”  
With a clenched jaw, she lashed out. The gun was set down right beside her, but his hands were still on her wrists. She twisted them to the point that it burned, breaking his fingers away. The man was suddenly promising to let her keep the money while he ran, but she knew what that meant. He’d find another. Probably, it would be a friend of hers whom she never expected to keep, but protected with every ability she had. She fully had the ability to twist over like a cobra and bring the man’s gun down over and over. The noise was less like a watermelon, as Alisha had expected, and was more like cement; incredibly brittle cement. Cement that bled and struggled. Now, Buffy gagged in the corner.  
“Jesus Christ,” she sighed, “Why are you so… wrong?”  
Alisha gave one last blow that cracked the handle of the gun entirely into the man’s skull before whispering, “No, don’t do this to me.”  
“Alright, then,” now it was Spike, “I can get behind this, you know that. I only bothered picking you up like roadkill because I pitied you, but this is interesting.”  
Alisha kept her eyes on the hallucination. He shook his head as she dialed. Her fingers drummed a Tool song as she waited. Then, she looked at herself in the mirror and was tempted to hang up. She stared at the phone, the name, and sat down with tears in her eyes. After she’d made up appearances so well, she was living in her own space rather than living off of other people’s money and housing. Now, she’d have to tell him why. She put the phone back to her ear. Nothing happened.  
“You are not like this anymore,” she growled, leaving for Sunnydale high school.  
She cut the cords to the security cameras from the entrance to the end of the corridor before the basement. Her heart nearly jumped to her throat when she first saw movement in the basement as it was much larger than any rat. Then, her heart plummeted down to her toes. It was Spike, with hair that was practically halfway brunette and entirely ungroomed. She knew that look. Her worst fear came true as she realized that she was the last thing he needed at the moment. She turned to leave morosely. She stopped once she could feel him staring at her.  
“Yes, I’m a whore,” she sighed, “I sell myself so I don’t have to live off of other people… and it’s led me to make a body, a human one” she struggled to form words in her sore throat, “I made a really fucking big mistake.”  
She stood there anticipating his answer, only to hear a reassuring, “Join the club.” Alisha smirked and raised a brow, so he clarified, “The big mistake, not the whoring part.”  
“I’d say you give enough away for free,” Alisha joked.  
“Shut up and get down here so I can see what I can do with your mistake,” Spike said, forcing a smile.  
“You don't have to,” Alisha commented.  
“No, but my life’s pretty much at rock bottom already.”  
“Need a pick ax?” she said lightheartedly.  
Spike seemed focused elsewhere. Alisha didn’t want to interrupt because, from her experience, it was better to just let things play out. After all, she had bothered him with enough of her own meltdowns. What was one moment of distraction? When he looked a little too distressed about what he was seeing, she piped up.  
“I’m here,” with her most comforting smile, although she had smeared blood across her face at some point in the chaos.  
Spike snapped back to Alisha and walked over to her. He grabbed her arms, which only had some width due to her muscle mass, and shook her harshly. Her hand reached for the knife tucked into her waistband. Spike shook his head and turned around frantically. He shoved at something only to stumble forward stupidly. Alisha laughed a little.  
“You’re right on that one,” Spike mumbled to someone before turning back to Alisha, “So, what are we doing with king size?”  
“Uhhh,” Alisha began, “we are burying him. I sure as fuck can’t burn him. It doesn’t look like you’re much better.”  
“What do you mean by that?” Spike asked, concerned.  
“The fuck you mean, what do I mean? Have you seen yourself-”  
“No, I definitely get that part. No burning tonight. You said you couldn't do it like it's worse for some reason.”  
“It’s just,” Alisha hid her mouth to muffle the last words, “the heroin.”  
Spike barked, “What?” somewhere between disgust and horror.  
“The heroin!” she shouted back, “I’ve been hallucinating like fucking crazy, and I've been seeing my mom. Not just her, but, pretty much everyone I know. She's just the worst.”  
Spike was at a loss for words until he finally decided, “We’ll talk about this, all of this, after we get rid of your mess. I already have a hole going, so you can just toss him in with the others.”  
“Really? Taking the fall for me? How fucking low is your self worth right now?”  
“Must be low,” Spike took off his shirt to reveal a massive wound on his chest, before wrapping it around the man’s bleeding head. “Go check if we have a way out.”  
Alisha's mouth, which was painted with the cheapest red lipstick, hung open in shock and sorrow. Completely ignorant of Spike’s personal space, she practically shoved into his chest to look at the crude cuts. He allowed her to prod until she actually pulled a part open enough to see a rib. Spike hissed and yanked Alisha's wrists back.  
“Why’d you do it?” Alisha asked sadly.  
“It’s complicated,” he started. “I got my soul back, I suppose we should start there.”  
“Jesus fucking H Christ, Spike,” Alisha gasped in awe. “I knew you were into Buffy and everything, but you really broke the laws of supernature for her?”  
“You know I'm bloody desperate when it comes to women. Well, ever since then, I've had to stay here for the safety of everyone. I thought a soul would stop that,” he ran his hands over his face in frustration, “but apparently that's not the way this works. I should've known, having you as a friend. It just makes what I do feel like Hell.” Alisha noticed he was getting emotional, causing her to cock her head in concern, “I tried to just get rid of the bloody thing, since it’s so useless to me anyway. As you can see, I’m not as brave as you.”  
A glare crossed over Alisha's face, “Brave as me?” She dropped the body carelessly and threw a punch that caused Spike to stumble to the dirty, black floor, “Fucking brave like me? This is just me trying to get the shit in my head anywhere but there. Me slicing myself like deli meat is anything but brave, you dumbass! Yeah, you killed some bitches. I’m still willing to bet I’ve been worse with a soul than you are without. Just grin and fucking bear it! That’s all I’ve done and I coulda sold mine off a long time ago! I tried to kill myself, and now fucking look at me!” Now, both her and Spike were just about at the same point of tears, “I’ve been destroyed in every way but the way I actually wanted. If I lose you too, I won’t survive. Not to sound like an abusive girlfriend, but I can't keep going through this brutalistic shit, Spike.”  
Alisha was patient while Spike took everything in. He stared into space, still sitting against the basement wall. Eventually, he just shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off. He picked up the body Alisha had dropped and threw it over his shoulder and started leaving the basement.  
“Some response would be nice!” Alisha announced.  
Spike stopped and sighed, “You’re right. If you did something like this, I’d be bloody mad as hell at you. Let’s just take care of this for now, alright?”  
“Yeah, after we make sure there's no guards or anything. Just seems like the best way to go, but you're free to spend an eternity in prison. You’re pick,” Alisha suggested.  
“Again, probably right. You go. You seem to have a better handle on reality than I do, for once,” Spike instructed.  
Alisha nodded and forced her way up the stairs past Spike. The blood on her clothes, hands, and face didn't concern her. It was Sunnydale after all. All she’d have to do is whisper “vampire” and people would just ask her to be quiet. As she wandered through the halls, she thought about taking a detour to the girls’ locker room for a shower. Then, she remembered how grisley the disposal process is and decided it would be pointless. The halls were dead silent. She stopped to break open a storage closet and grab a shovel before returning to the basement.  
“It’s cool,” she told Spike, who turned abruptly turned from another conversation with someone she couldn’t see, “Nobody but you, me, and a corpse.”  
Spike hauled the body as quickly as possible out of the store while Alisha rushed ahead to hijack a car across the street. She popped the trunk while she was on the floor. The car rattled once Spike dropped the dead body into the trunk and slammed it. The car sparked to life, so she scrambled up to rev the car and keep it from idling. Spike barely shut the passenger door before Alisha jerked the steering wheel loose.  
“Where’s this hole of yours at?” Alisha asked.  
She followed Spike’s directions to pretty much nowhere. Alisha thought it was better than trying to get rid of a body by throwing it in the river. Partway through, she wished she'd taken the time to find another shovel so Spike could dig too. Well, either way, she was digging while Spike rambled to no one. She got deep enough to find one of the women Spike had killed and shuttered.  
“You know you're a shit cleaner, Spike,” she coughed out.  
“Yeah, well I can’t do a bloody thing about it right now, can I?” Spike challenged.  
“Not you,” she held out her hand, “Gimme a knife.”  
“Why would I have a knife right now?” he questioned.  
“Because you're Spike,” she shot back, not lowering her hand.  
“This is all I got,” Spike responded, slapping a small pocket knife into her hand.  
Analyzing the blade, she sighed and shook her head. With all bodies uncovered, she went to work. The bloody scene was only lit by the moon, but it shaded the squirting blood darkly. The sound of snapping bones and tearing muscle went on for what seemed like forever. Strangely enough, it was the vampire on the verge of insanity who was most disturbed by the scene.  
“Believe it or not, neither of us were any fucking crazier that night,” Alisha, finishing her story to Jackson, laughed. “Something literally called the First Evil was playing mind games. Tripped me the hell out at first, ‘cause I thought I had it all figured out. Turns out I was wrong.”  
Jackson was in a daze and slack-jawed at what Alisha had just described. He thought about the families who’d died only because of his actions and it made Alisha's confession all the more chilling to him. Alisha was still mostly straight-faced, though some moisture was collected on her cheeks and in her eyes.  
“You’ve killed an actual human? Bashed his fucking brains in?” Jackson asked harshly, though the tone was not intentional.  
“Right the fuck in,” she said, getting ready to leave the ally.  
“Wait, I don’t get to ask anything else?” he asked after her.  
“The sooner we can get back to safety with my brothers, the sooner we can sit and do a Q&A session.” Alisha turned the conversation around by asking, “I don't fucking ask about your jobs, do I? How about your parents, huh?”  
“Jesus fucking Christ, you psychopath,” he gasped in disgust.  
“Fucking really, Jackass?” Alisha hissed, “I answer your first really damn personal question, now you’re unhappy with the answer when yours wouldn’t be any fucking better and you’re asking even more personal questions! I ask one and,” Alisha gave a dramatic gasp, “I’m just the fucking devil!”  
Jackson was about to give another argument when he noticed movement in the corner of his eye, rushing to say, “You know what, you are absolutely right, we’re wasting time bullshitting like this. We should start moving back-”  
“Fuck you!” Alisha growled back shrilly, “You want you wanna stick around and bullsh-”  
Once the officer was dangerously close, Jackson shoved Alisha against a wall. He knew he was taking a gamble, and failed spectacularly. Even when she realized exactly what was happening and why, she punched him straight in the mouth. It was hard enough for his teeth to break the skin of his lip, but not enough to actually break any of his teeth.  
“If you would’ve given me warning, a; I wouldn't be so motherfucking freaked out;” this time, she did the shoving to deeper in the alley, behind a trash bin, “and b; we'd get started sooner.”  
She wiped the blood on Jackson's lips with her fingers before putting them in her mouth. Jackson was admittedly a little repulsed by this act, but he decided to go with it. He wasn’t going to get hurt any worse by what she was doing at that moment.  
“This is a whole fucking new low,” he thought, pressed against the wall.  
Alisha was honestly not entirely sure why she was pushing this. Well, she knew damned well it was the piercing blue eyes, and his cheekbones. She had the eyes and the orientation to see why. Just, something told her she was being shallow. It told her she should find what else was drawing her in before she makes a mistake.  
“It’s one of those fucking pills,” she thought, “Making me paranoid. I’ll drop it as soon as I find the bitch.”  
From there, she pushed everything else aside. Although her one hand was tightly grasping Jackson's shoulder in and the other played in his brown, traditional length hair, his hands were flat at the wall. He finally touched her hip covered by her black tank, but couldn't help but notice the creases indicating more scars underneath. He kept his touches as light as possible.  
When they were done, Alisha lowered her legs to the floor. She pulled her black, faded jeans as tight around her waist as possible. They were ill-fitted, so they still sagged a bit under the hem of her top. Jackson flashed a frat-boy grin before hustling beside Alisha. Sam and Dean were waiting outside the Wolfram and Hart building.  
“C’mon, we've got a lot to talk about!” Dean called to them.  
When Alisha stopped, Sam approached her delicately and said, “Don’t worry. We're never going to leave you behind like that.” He appeared unsettled by something as he emphasized, “Ever.”  
Alisha nodded and made her way to the impala in confusion. The black car seemed to create a Chernobyl-esque irradiation of stress. Alisha even swore she saw a pigeon crash into traffic and wondered if it was feeling this. The broken down nuclear plant of a family twitched and fidgeted awkwardly as all doors were shut. Jackson felt bombarded with surprises since he’d first seen Alisha, so he really didn't have much reaction left in him.  
To kick off the end of the silence, Dean said, “Alisha… Spike told us everything.”  
“Everything?” Alisha questioned, “What the Hell do you mean everything?”  
“I mean I know you’ve killed,” her older brother said sharply. “You’ve killed a human, but the reasons, circumstances… just all the excuses and pity points you can get- you’ve got ‘em.”  
Alisha took in a deep breath, “Go on.”  
“Sam, you wanna take the rest of this?” Dean offered. “I feel like I’ve butchered the ‘be delicate’ part of this.”  
“To be fair, I did brutally murder a guy,” Alisha announced.  
“But, you had reasons,” Sam explained. “Maybe, yours are better than Jack’s-”  
“It’s Jackson, buddy!” Jackson corrected.  
“We’re really concerned with a Hell of a lot more than your name. Watch it, Rippner,” Dean barked back.  
Then, Sam continued, “Definitely, your reasons are better. Either way, you both have your reasons. You think you can save him, keep him hidded, you do that. But, it’s on you. You save him, you hide him.”  
“Interesting,” the Winchester sister said in a distracted tone, “Thanks.”  
Both of the brothers’ faces lightened before Sam responded, “No problem. Wanna say ‘bye’ to Spike before we go?”  
“Sure.”  
With that, Alisha made an exit from the Impala back to the building. Spike was still standing in the lobby, where Sam and Dean had left him. He hadn’t quite had the time to notice her back before she hugged him with a running, jumping start.  
“We gotta go,” she informed him, “My people, I mean. We’ve got a whole apocalypse thing to deal with anyways, and I think that goes for the whole.”  
“Yeah, your brothers told me. They weren't too friendly about it either.”  
“Shit,” she muttered, realizing she had neglected to share that massive change in her life, “I’m really sorry. I was just so fucking happy that you were back, but my brothers were on my ass and they’re assholes who have no sense of stopping to enjoy when things actually go our way, so-”  
“So, you need to stop now before you overdo your apology. I think I need to rip this bloody bandaid off now,” Spike forewarned.  
“How bloody?”  
“Spike!” Dean barked, “No.”  
Sam agreed, saying, “It’s not worth it, Alisha. Just let everything be okay and let’s go.”  
“Nothing’s okay for me,” Alisha told Sam and Dean, “ever. I lost him once, he pretty much burned to death to, I can take it. Now…” she turned to Spike, “speak!”  
“Okay…” and Spike began explaining, “there’s another prophecy.”  
As Spike explained the situation, Alisha was surprisingly calm, inside and out. To her comfort, she was right. This was much better than the last prophecy, which required someone (Spike) to die. As much as Alisha hated Angel’s guts, putting her feelings on display freely, she sure as fuck didn't wish death on him any more than she did on Spike. The “champion”, though she hated the word, would live on as a human… while the world ends. No harm or foul needed.  
“So, basically I gotta worry about everything I was originally worried about,” Alisha concluded, “and you and Angel going at each other's throats and trying to fucking kill each other.”  
Spike chuckled at how she seemed to process this like it was old news, “Yeah, that’s pretty much the gist.”  
“So, nothing new except you’re back.” As Spike shrugged in agreement, Alisha told her brothers, “See? I didn't slit my motherfucking wrists and throat. I know it’s a shock that I’m an adult who’s been insane most of my damned life and can figure out when my brain’s being an asshole.”  
Alisha turned and gave Spike one last squeeze of gratitude for his existence before pushing past Sam and Dean triumphantly. The brothers waved awkwardly before moving behind their sister. Jackson moved suddenly from fidgeting to staring at the trio from the Impala impatiently.  
“So, we got a new guy,” Dean announced, “Did you hunt with him or just reenact Hostel?”  
“Nah, I scared him shitless. We didn't do it by the book.”  
“You didn't do it by the book,” Jackson corrected adamantly.  
“Damn, that bad?” Dean asked Jackson.  
Jackson nodded. They had brought up the start of the worst thing they could know about Alisha, according to her. However, from their lack of care and abundance of understanding, she knew Spike had kept her secret. When she told Jackson about hiding that body with the vampire, she left out one detail. In her rant about Spike’s self injury and self loathing, she had broken down and told him how she surrendered half of her soul to the First, killing her humanity forever, making her a glorified serial killer.


	4. What a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may seem a bit eh for a few reasons. First of all, I swore I already posted it but I am a moron. Also, I need to catch up on Angel and there is literally one device that works with Facebook Watch around here, so this chapter may seem ill informed as I get what I can from wikia. Anyways, the only point of this chapter was really to get the Winchesters to meet Spike and Alisha back with her bros.  
> Title inspired by Throbbing Gristle

Sam and Dean pulled up right behind Jackson and Alisha. Suddenly, her hands were shaking and sweaty on the wheel. Dean stepped out of the impala and Sam followed. Both of them waited while staring at her impatiently. Then, Dean rolled his eyes and began approaching their vehicle. Alisha quickly shut the truck off and lept out. Once Dean noticed Jackson in the passenger seat, he was no happier than Spike had been.  
“That’s just great!” Dean shouted, “Fucking fantastic! Not only are you chilling around with one of the worst bloodsuckers of all time, but you picked up-”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm savin’ the unsavable, picking up a terrorist. And Spike, he does have a fucking name,” Dean rolled his eyes, “died as a part pf a prophecy to save the damned world. He has a soul. I have less of a soul than him.” she argued.  
“Alisha,” Sam began, “You can't just brush off harboring a fugitive,” he reconsidered his words when Alisha raised a brow, “a real fugitive. I mean, he's helped in the deaths of how many people?”  
“It doesn't matter because he helped, he didn't do it. I've done worse.”  
“You haven't offed an actual person, right?” Dean shot back. Alisha fell silent with brown eyes that seemed to have no shine whatsoever, causing Dean to awkwardly half-change the subject and say, “We’ll all talk later,” shoving into the massive building.  
As much as Alisha was not ashamed of her past, she was reaching territory that she was horrified of showing to her brothers. She knew that sooner or later it would come: she would have to revisit the churning in her stomach as she lost trust for her client in that hotel room How her fears were proven when the chubby, much older man refused to leave. She didn't even bother pulling the gun out of the man’s head before hurrying to call Spike.  
In the present, she was on the phone, trying to give Dean less time to build up steam. Her finger tapped anxiously on the black flip phone. Dean was leaning against a wall impatiently. Then, he noticed Harmony walking through and smirked.  
“Can ya not?” she sneered.  
Alisha snickered back, “Oh, you finally found some standards.”  
“Yeah, and I stop at hunters who can’t even handle their crazy, human sister, let alone us vampires. I’ve had Spike, and he’s probably better.”  
“Speaking of Spike,” Sam interrupted, not letting Dean give his comeback, “Any idea where we can find him?”  
“Not a clue,” she said, hurrying to get away from any further questioning.  
Alisha, trying to resist the urge to crush her phone in her hands, began furiously texting, “My brothers are here. The longer you’re not here, the closer they get to hunting instead of looking. Get ahold of me ASAP.”  
“What, are you some kind of monster Nazis?” Jack asked over her shoulder.  
“I think you saw enough to get the gist,” she said curtly, slamming the phone shut so hard the screen nearly broke.  
Jackson clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and responded, “Yeah, but you also just said you’ve killed someone before.”  
Alisha flashed a finger over her lips, which Jackson thought was an attempt at humor, but then she looked quickly at Dean and Sam. Neither of them seemed to notice the conversation. She stepped away to mutter something to Dean while making smoking motions with her fingers. Jackson hissed when she began dragging him, then his heart began racing. As soon as they were out the door, he broke away and made a run for nothing.  
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, sprinting behind and catching up fairly quickly.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a police officer behind Jackson’s truck, pulling out his radio. She used her uneven, bust length hair to hide her own face. Then, she endured Jackson’s unbelievably sweaty palms and shoved him into the nearest ally. Her hand covered his mouth until the sound of the officer’s footsteps sped past the entrance. She let Jackson go while he huffed.  
“Not much of a stamina, eh Rippner?” she teased.  
Jackson shook his head in denial, “You just didn’t look that strong-”  
“Of course, I’m a woman, go on.”  
“And I really fucking value my life, so of course I was going to run like fucking crazy.”  
“Well, you were about to run like fucking crazy into a damned cop, you retard. Wanna hear about what happened with me until it’s clear?”  
Jackson pulled out a cigarette and waved her on as he put it in his mouth, “your turn to go on.”  
Both Alisha and the client were silent when they entered the cheap room. She didn’t have any qualifications for jobs that would give her enough time to hunt, but her mind couldn’t give up the hunting. So, she was reduced to this; meeting strange men whose names she had usually forgotten by now. This one, she didn’t. Ever since he’d asked for her, she’d noticed something off. It wasn’t a supernatural kind of “off” where a simple splash of holy water or something of the like would solve everything. Still, she went through with it. Whether it was intentional with the plan of violence or simply out of apathy, even she wasn’t entirely sure. Her phone rang inside her tiny shorts she had stolen from Dawn, which honestly fit too well on her taller body for her to be healthy.  
“I need to take this, can you leave for a sec?” she requested.  
The man laughed at her. She turned and  
repeated herself with a glare. He stood, which led her to think he would listen. Her phone was yanked from her hands. Her fogged system tried to interpret what was happening as she felt the hard and lumpy bed under her. The man trapped her wrist and pulled out a handgun. Even though Alisha expected this would happen some time, she was still flooded with emotions.  
“This is why I left you,” her father said, squatted right beside her face, “We always knew you’d end up here. Sam has no one worth looking up to. You’re too Damned rough for Dean and I to shove around anymore. What are you even doing in this family?”  
With a clenched jaw, she lashed out. The gun was set down right beside her, but his hands were still on her wrists. She twisted them to the point that it burned, breaking his fingers away. The man was suddenly promising to let her keep the money while he ran, but she knew what that meant. He’d find another. Probably, it would be a friend of hers whom she never expected to keep, but protected with every ability she had. She fully had the ability to twist over like a cobra and bring the man’s gun down over and over. The noise was less like a watermelon, as Alisha had expected, and was more like cement; incredibly brittle cement. Cement that bled and struggled. Now, Buffy gagged in the corner.  
“Jesus Christ,” she sighed, “Why are you so… wrong?”  
Alisha gave one last blow that cracked the handle of the gun entirely into the man’s skull before whispering, “No, don’t do this to me.”  
“Alright, then,” now it was Spike, “I can get behind this, you know that. I only bothered picking you up like roadkill because I pitied you, but this is interesting.”  
Alisha kept her eyes on the hallucination. He shook his head as she dialed. Her fingers drummed a Tool song as she waited. Then, she looked at herself in the mirror and was tempted to hang up. She stared at the phone, the name, and sat down with tears in her eyes. After she’d made up appearances so well, she was living in her own space rather than living off of other people’s money and housing. Now, she’d have to tell him why. She put the phone back to her ear. Nothing happened.  
“You are not like this anymore,” she growled, leaving for Sunnydale high school.  
She cut the cords to the security cameras from the entrance to the end of the corridor before the basement. Her heart nearly jumped to her throat when she first saw movement in the basement as it was much larger than any rat. Then, her heart plummeted down to her toes. It was Spike, with hair that was practically halfway brunette and entirely ungroomed. She knew that look. Her worst fear came true as she realized that she was the last thing he needed at the moment. She turned to leave morosely. She stopped once she could feel him staring at her.  
“Yes, I’m a whore,” she sighed, “I sell myself so I don’t have to live off of other people… and it’s led me to make a body, a human one” she struggled to form words in her sore throat, “I made a really fucking big mistake.”  
She stood there anticipating his answer, only to hear a reassuring, “Join the club.” Alisha smirked and raised a brow, so he clarified, “The big mistake, not the whoring part.”  
“I’d say you give enough away for free,” Alisha joked.  
“Shut up and get down here so I can see what I can do with your mistake,” Spike said, forcing a smile.  
“You don't have to,” Alisha commented.  
“No, but my life’s pretty much at rock bottom already.”  
“Need a pick ax?” she said lightheartedly.  
Spike seemed focused elsewhere. Alisha didn’t want to interrupt because, from her experience, it was better to just let things play out. After all, she had bothered him with enough of her own meltdowns. What was one moment of distraction? When he looked a little too distressed about what he was seeing, she piped up.  
“I’m here,” with her most comforting smile, although she had smeared blood across her face at some point in the chaos.  
Spike snapped back to Alisha and walked over to her. He grabbed her arms, which only had some width due to her muscle mass, and shook her harshly. Her hand reached for the knife tucked into her waistband. Spike shook his head and turned around frantically. He shoved at something only to stumble forward stupidly. Alisha laughed a little.  
“You’re right on that one,” Spike mumbled to someone before turning back to Alisha, “So, what are we doing with king size?”  
“Uhhh,” Alisha began, “we are burying him. I sure as fuck can’t burn him. It doesn’t look like you’re much better.”  
“What do you mean by that?” Spike asked, concerned.  
“The fuck you mean, what do I mean? Have you seen yourself-”  
“No, I definitely get that part. No burning tonight. You said you couldn't do it like it's worse for some reason.”  
“It’s just,” Alisha hid her mouth to muffle the last words, “the heroin.”  
Spike barked, “What?” somewhere between disgust and horror.  
“The heroin!” she shouted back, “I’ve been hallucinating like fucking crazy, and I've been seeing my mom. Not just her, but, pretty much everyone I know. She's just the worst.”  
Spike was at a loss for words until he finally decided, “We’ll talk about this, all of this, after we get rid of your mess. I already have a hole going, so you can just toss him in with the others.”  
“Really? Taking the fall for me? How fucking low is your self worth right now?”  
“Must be low,” Spike took off his shirt to reveal a massive wound on his chest, before wrapping it around the man’s bleeding head. “Go check if we have a way out.”  
Alisha's mouth, which was painted with the cheapest red lipstick, hung open in shock and sorrow. Completely ignorant of Spike’s personal space, she practically shoved into his chest to look at the crude cuts. He allowed her to prod until she actually pulled a part open enough to see a rib. Spike hissed and yanked Alisha's wrists back.  
“Why’d you do it?” Alisha asked sadly.  
“It’s complicated,” he started. “I got my soul back, I suppose we should start there.”  
“Jesus fucking H Christ, Spike,” Alisha gasped in awe. “I knew you were into Buffy and everything, but you really broke the laws of supernature for her?”  
“You know I'm bloody desperate when it comes to women. Well, ever since then, I've had to stay here for the safety of everyone. I thought a soul would stop that,” he ran his hands over his face in frustration, “but apparently that's not the way this works. I should've known, having you as a friend. It just makes what I do feel like Hell.” Alisha noticed he was getting emotional, causing her to cock her head in concern, “I tried to just get rid of the bloody thing, since it’s so useless to me anyway. As you can see, I’m not as brave as you.”  
A glare crossed over Alisha's face, “Brave as me?” She dropped the body carelessly and threw a punch that caused Spike to stumble to the dirty, black floor, “Fucking brave like me? This is just me trying to get the shit in my head anywhere but there. Me slicing myself like deli meat is anything but brave, you dumbass! Yeah, you killed some bitches. I’m still willing to bet I’ve been worse with a soul than you are without. Just grin and fucking bear it! That’s all I’ve done and I coulda sold mine off a long time ago! I tried to kill myself, and now fucking look at me!” Now, both her and Spike were just about at the same point of tears, “I’ve been destroyed in every way but the way I actually wanted. If I lose you too, I won’t survive. Not to sound like an abusive girlfriend, but I can't keep going through this brutalistic shit, Spike.”  
Alisha was patient while Spike took everything in. He stared into space, still sitting against the basement wall. Eventually, he just shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off. He picked up the body Alisha had dropped and threw it over his shoulder and started leaving the basement.  
“Some response would be nice!” Alisha announced.  
Spike stopped and sighed, “You’re right. If you did something like this, I’d be bloody mad as hell at you. Let’s just take care of this for now, alright?”  
“Yeah, after we make sure there's no guards or anything. Just seems like the best way to go, but you're free to spend an eternity in prison. You’re pick,” Alisha suggested.  
“Again, probably right. You go. You seem to have a better handle on reality than I do, for once,” Spike instructed.  
Alisha nodded and forced her way up the stairs past Spike. The blood on her clothes, hands, and face didn't concern her. It was Sunnydale after all. All she’d have to do is whisper “vampire” and people would just ask her to be quiet. As she wandered through the halls, she thought about taking a detour to the girls’ locker room for a shower. Then, she remembered how grisley the disposal process is and decided it would be pointless. The halls were dead silent. She stopped to break open a storage closet and grab a shovel before returning to the basement.  
“It’s cool,” she told Spike, who turned abruptly turned from another conversation with someone she couldn’t see, “Nobody but you, me, and a corpse.”  
Spike hauled the body as quickly as possible out of the store while Alisha rushed ahead to hijack a car across the street. She popped the trunk while she was on the floor. The car rattled once Spike dropped the dead body into the trunk and slammed it. The car sparked to life, so she scrambled up to rev the car and keep it from idling. Spike barely shut the passenger door before Alisha jerked the steering wheel loose.  
“Where’s this hole of yours at?” Alisha asked.  
She followed Spike’s directions to pretty much nowhere. Alisha thought it was better than trying to get rid of a body by throwing it in the river. Partway through, she wished she'd taken the time to find another shovel so Spike could dig too. Well, either way, she was digging while Spike rambled to no one. She got deep enough to find one of the women Spike had killed and shuttered.  
“You know you're a shit cleaner, Spike,” she coughed out.  
“Yeah, well I can’t do a bloody thing about it right now, can I?” Spike challenged.  
“Not you,” she held out her hand, “Gimme a knife.”  
“Why would I have a knife right now?” he questioned.  
“Because you're Spike,” she shot back, not lowering her hand.  
“This is all I got,” Spike responded, slapping a small pocket knife into her hand.  
Analyzing the blade, she sighed and shook her head. With all bodies uncovered, she went to work. The bloody scene was only lit by the moon, but it shaded the squirting blood darkly. The sound of snapping bones and tearing muscle went on for what seemed like forever. Strangely enough, it was the vampire on the verge of insanity who was most disturbed by the scene.  
“Believe it or not, neither of us were any fucking crazier that night,” Alisha, finishing her story to Jackson, laughed. “Something literally called the First Evil was playing mind games. Tripped me the hell out at first, ‘cause I thought I had it all figured out. Turns out I was wrong.”  
Jackson was in a daze and slack-jawed at what Alisha had just described. He thought about the families who’d died only because of his actions and it made Alisha's confession all the more chilling to him. Alisha was still mostly straight-faced, though some moisture was collected on her cheeks and in her eyes.  
“You’ve killed an actual human? Bashed his fucking brains in?” Jackson asked harshly, though the tone was not intentional.  
“Right the fuck in,” she said, getting ready to leave the ally.  
“Wait, I don’t get to ask anything else?” he asked after her.  
“The sooner we can get back to safety with my brothers, the sooner we can sit and do a Q&A session.” Alisha turned the conversation around by asking, “I don't fucking ask about your jobs, do I? How about your parents, huh?”  
“Jesus fucking Christ, you psychopath,” he gasped in disgust.  
“Fucking really, Jackass?” Alisha hissed, “I answer your first really damn personal question, now you’re unhappy with the answer when yours wouldn’t be any fucking better and you’re asking even more personal questions! I ask one and,” Alisha gave a dramatic gasp, “I’m just the fucking devil!”  
Jackson was about to give another argument when he noticed movement in the corner of his eye, rushing to say, “You know what, you are absolutely right, we’re wasting time bullshitting like this. We should start moving back-”  
“Fuck you!” Alisha growled back shrilly, “You want you wanna stick around and bullsh-”  
Once the officer was dangerously close, Jackson shoved Alisha against a wall. He knew he was taking a gamble, and failed spectacularly. Even when she realized exactly what was happening and why, she punched him straight in the mouth. It was hard enough for his teeth to break the skin of his lip, but not enough to actually break any of his teeth.  
“If you would’ve given me warning, a; I wouldn't be so motherfucking freaked out;” this time, she did the shoving to deeper in the alley, behind a trash bin, “and b; we'd get started sooner.”  
She wiped the blood on Jackson's lips with her fingers before putting them in her mouth. Jackson was admittedly a little repulsed by this act, but he decided to go with it. He wasn’t going to get hurt any worse by what she was doing at that moment.  
“This is a whole fucking new low,” he thought, pressed against the wall.  
Alisha was honestly not entirely sure why she was pushing this. Well, she knew damned well it was the piercing blue eyes, and his cheekbones. She had the eyes and the orientation to see why. Just, something told her she was being shallow. It told her she should find what else was drawing her in before she makes a mistake.  
“It’s one of those fucking pills,” she thought, “Making me paranoid. I’ll drop it as soon as I find the bitch.”  
From there, she pushed everything else aside. Although her one hand was tightly grasping Jackson's shoulder in and the other played in his brown, traditional length hair, his hands were flat at the wall. He finally touched her hip covered by her black tank, but couldn't help but notice the creases indicating more scars underneath. He kept his touches as light as possible.  
When they were done, Alisha lowered her legs to the floor. She pulled her black, faded jeans as tight around her waist as possible. They were ill-fitted, so they still sagged a bit under the hem of her top. Jackson flashed a frat-boy grin before hustling beside Alisha. Sam and Dean were waiting outside the Wolfram and Hart building.  
“C’mon, we've got a lot to talk about!” Dean called to them.  
When Alisha stopped, Sam approached her delicately and said, “Don’t worry. We're never going to leave you behind like that.” He appeared unsettled by something as he emphasized, “Ever.”  
Alisha nodded and made her way to the impala in confusion. The black car seemed to create a Chernobyl-esque irradiation of stress. Alisha even swore she saw a pigeon crash into traffic and wondered if it was feeling this. The broken down nuclear plant of a family twitched and fidgeted awkwardly as all doors were shut. Jackson felt bombarded with surprises since he’d first seen Alisha, so he really didn't have much reaction left in him.  
To kick off the end of the silence, Dean said, “Alisha… Spike told us everything.”  
“Everything?” Alisha questioned, “What the Hell do you mean everything?”  
“I mean I know you’ve killed,” her older brother said sharply. “You’ve killed a human, but the reasons, circumstances… just all the excuses and pity points you can get- you’ve got ‘em.”  
Alisha took in a deep breath, “Go on.”  
“Sam, you wanna take the rest of this?” Dean offered. “I feel like I’ve butchered the ‘be delicate’ part of this.”  
“To be fair, I did brutally murder a guy,” Alisha announced.  
“But, you had reasons,” Sam explained. “Maybe, yours are better than Jack’s-”  
“It’s Jackson, buddy!” Jackson corrected.  
“We’re really concerned with a Hell of a lot more than your name. Watch it, Rippner,” Dean barked back.  
Then, Sam continued, “Definitely, your reasons are better. Either way, you both have your reasons. You think you can save him, keep him hidded, you do that. But, it’s on you. You save him, you hide him.”  
“Interesting,” the Winchester sister said in a distracted tone, “Thanks.”  
Both of the brothers’ faces lightened before Sam responded, “No problem. Wanna say ‘bye’ to Spike before we go?”  
“Sure.”  
With that, Alisha made an exit from the Impala back to the building. Spike was still standing in the lobby, where Sam and Dean had left him. He hadn’t quite had the time to notice her back before she hugged him with a running, jumping start.  
“We gotta go,” she informed him, “My people, I mean. We’ve got a whole apocalypse thing to deal with anyways, and I think that goes for the whole.”  
“Yeah, your brothers told me. They weren't too friendly about it either.”  
“Shit,” she muttered, realizing she had neglected to share that massive change in her life, “I’m really sorry. I was just so fucking happy that you were back, but my brothers were on my ass and they’re assholes who have no sense of stopping to enjoy when things actually go our way, so-”  
“So, you need to stop now before you overdo your apology. I think I need to rip this bloody bandaid off now,” Spike forewarned.  
“How bloody?”  
“Spike!” Dean barked, “No.”  
Sam agreed, saying, “It’s not worth it, Alisha. Just let everything be okay and let’s go.”  
“Nothing’s okay for me,” Alisha told Sam and Dean, “ever. I lost him once, he pretty much burned to death to, I can take it. Now…” she turned to Spike, “speak!”  
“Okay…” and Spike began explaining, “there’s another prophecy.”  
As Spike explained the situation, Alisha was surprisingly calm, inside and out. To her comfort, she was right. This was much better than the last prophecy, which required someone (Spike) to die. As much as Alisha hated Angel’s guts, putting her feelings on display freely, she sure as fuck didn't wish death on him any more than she did on Spike. The “champion”, though she hated the word, would live on as a human… while the world ends. No harm or foul needed.  
“So, basically I gotta worry about everything I was originally worried about,” Alisha concluded, “and you and Angel going at each other's throats and trying to fucking kill each other.”  
Spike chuckled at how she seemed to process this like it was old news, “Yeah, that’s pretty much the gist.”  
“So, nothing new except you’re back.” As Spike shrugged in agreement, Alisha told her brothers, “See? I didn't slit my motherfucking wrists and throat. I know it’s a shock that I’m an adult who’s been insane most of my damned life and can figure out when my brain’s being an asshole.”  
Alisha turned and gave Spike one last squeeze of gratitude for his existence before pushing past Sam and Dean triumphantly. The brothers waved awkwardly before moving behind their sister. Jackson moved suddenly from fidgeting to staring at the trio from the Impala impatiently.  
“So, we got a new guy,” Dean announced, “Did you hunt with him or just reenact Hostel?”  
“Nah, I scared him shitless. We didn't do it by the book.”  
“You didn't do it by the book,” Jackson corrected adamantly.  
“Damn, that bad?” Dean asked Jackson.  
Jackson nodded. They had brought up the start of the worst thing they could know about Alisha, according to her. However, from their lack of care and abundance of understanding, she knew Spike had kept her secret. When she told Jackson about hiding that body with the vampire, she left out one detail. In her rant about Spike’s self injury and self loathing, she had broken down and told him how she surrendered half of her soul to the First, killing her humanity forever, making her a glorified serial killer.


	5. Phantom Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I ship Alisha and Spike and I am venting through this mini-chapter. It is smut, so feel free to skip. Nothing is added to the story in this chapter.  
> Title inspired by Nicole Dollanganger song

    Alisha's eyes twitched as she felt the bottom of her bed shift. One hand slowly reached to the knife under her pillow until she felt someone else's stop it.  She nearly shot up to attack the stranger. Just as her eyes opened, she realized the stranger was not a stranger at all. Her head leaned back to view the cracked concrete ceiling, comforted with the knowledge that it was just her favorite vampire under the covers.  The raven-haired woman bit her lip and smirked.

    "Hey there, Spike," she giggled lazily, running some fingers through his platinum blonde hair.

   He just chuckled with her plain cotton panties between his teeth.  His grip on her wrist loosened just to caress the rest of her skin, letting his digits trace the lines of her deep scars.  The tissue stung slightly at the direct contact, but Alisha didn't mind. She always believed the line between pain and pleasure was thin.  Because of this, her hand moved to stroke the top of Spike's hand in agreement with his gesture. Then, her back turned to a high arch into Spike's mouth.  Her gentle touch became aggressive tearing at the vampire's hair enough to cause him to hiss in pain. The sensation of Spike's breath caused Alisha to groan. She noticed the strength she was using with the hand in Spike's hair and pulled it away only for him to yank it back to the same position.

   "You know i don't mind the pain, Raven," Spike hummed.

   Alisha laughed, "You've always been a fucking bitch," before letting out an ecstatic squeal.

   Her knuckles turned white as Spike's tongue barely grazed the spot which nearly sent her into an immediate orgasm.  Alisha swore she could physically beat Spike for pulling away soon after.

   "What the fuck?" she grunted in frustration.  

   Spike made a shushing noise before slithering up to came face-to-face with the hunter underneath him. Alisha let out a hum of understanding when he moved his lips to the soft crook of her neck. She whispered somethings between threats and pleas to rush him as Spike opened his jeans. Alisha's nails dug deeper the closer Spike's hips pressed to hers. Eventually, her claws created small, crescent-like wounds. With one particularly powerful thrust, Alisha took hold of Spike's bicep to flip him to his back so that she was straddling him. There was barely a pause between the two positions when Alisha began rocking her hips at a harsh pace. The only slowing point was when she tore off her tank top. Once the shirt had landed on the dresser against the other wall of the motel room, the metal bed continued squeaking. Spike was pleased to explore the new territory, running his hands over her hips and pushing her back a little so he could sit up. The hunter felt her climax building as Spike ran his fingers across the back of her neck and through her long black hair.

   As soon as the moment as finished, Alisha woke up in the Impala. Jackson's arm was wrapped taught around her shoulder, so she looked over at him. Her head just went limp against his shoulder as she continued gazing at his sleeping form. A hand reached up to brush Jackson’s brown locks behind his ear and Alisha smiled forlornly. Her eyes drifted close as she fell back unconscious.

_"Oh well,"_ she sighed internally, _"At least Jack's actually fucking obtainable."_

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, it looks like you are either finished with the story or are skipping to the bottom for whatever reason. Either way, please leave feedback! I just want to know what I can do better, what's good already, and what you are expecting of the story. Thanks! C:


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